


Face Fisted

by hatebeat



Series: Putting the gears in motion [2]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatebeat/pseuds/hatebeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orlando, Florida. 1993. This is the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Orlando, Florida. 1993._

Pickles closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. He'd come outside to smoke this joint and get out of the hot air inside the club, but Florida was fucking hot and sticky all the time, there was just no fuckin' escaping it. He pushed aside his hair and pressed his beer bottle to the back of his neck, then swiped it across his forehead. LA had been hot, too, but the humidity was nothing compared to Orlando. 

He was kind of considering quitting all this shit. Getting the hell out of Florida, going further north, maybe back to the Midwest or something. Not back to fucking Tomahawk, hell no, but somewhere else. Sure, he had a band here and all, but he wasn't attached. They were no Snakes N' Barrels. And that was maybe fine, because it wasn't like he was looking for that kind of fame again. It was fun, but he had really lost himself for a while, too.

He didn't want to think about it. His new bandmates were inside the club drinking right now. He took another hit of the joint. This was what his life was now. So, that was that.

The sound of a body falling to the ground snapped him out of his stupid thoughts, probably for the best. He looked up to see a big guy at the mouth of the alley, standing over a guy on the ground. It was pretty impressive. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone so pissed off in his life.

Maybe he should have gotten out of there, but he just took another hit, and then took a drink of his beer. The guy hadn't bothered looking at him at all. He just picked up the guy on the ground by the front of his shirt and punched him in the face. Again, Pickles assumed.

"I said _run_ ," the big guy growled at the guy on the ground. Looked like he'd broken some teeth, but he could still walk, apparently, because it only took him seconds to be on his feet and running away after that.

Huh, pretty impressive show.

Pickles wasn't really prepared, though, for the big guy to let out a yell and smash his hand into the brick wall. Bloodied his knuckles right the fuck up, but it looked like he didn't even feel the pain.

It was only then that he noticed Pickles standing there, not giving a shit. The anger melted off his face like it hadn't been there at all.

"Oh. Uh. You're that... that drummer."

Pickles was worried this guy was going to recognise him or something, but now that he could see his face clearly, he realised he was just a kid, really. Probably wasn't even old enough to have been into any glam shit.

"Yeah," Pickles said. It wasn't a question. Whatever. He took another drink of beer. 

"Your band was okay. I guess."

Pickles shrugged. "It's just okay."

"Well that's fucking stupid," the guy said, his eyebrows furrowing. "If it's just okay you should join a better band."

This kid was kind of funny. Kind of interesting. "I probably will." He kind of held out the joint a little. "You smoke?"

The kid just stared at him for a minute like he didn't know what Pickles was talking about. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he was one of those straight-edge douchebags. He was running into a lot of those assholes lately.

"It's not good for my voice," the kid said after a moment. Huh. 

"Oh, you a singer or somethin'?" Because Pickles had been, and he never gave a shit what he smoked, so that was probably bullshit. 

" _Yeah_ ," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The kid looked away, though, like he was embarrassed or something. "Kinda."

Fuckin' adorable.

"Hey, that's pretty cool. I used to be a singer. Good luck an' all, yanno?" Pickles finished off his beer and then threw the bottle into the dumpster. He either needed another beer, or to just break down his kit and get the hell out of here. He wasn't sure which yet, but both involved him going inside. 

"Well, I'm gonna g-"

" _Wait_ ," the kid growled. There was maybe something wrong with this dude, Pickles thought. Maybe he was shy or something, but he just seemed so damn awkward. 

"Uh, can I help you?"

"You're a good drummer," the kid said, with some effort. "You're too good for your shitty, stupid band. You should drum for me instead."

Pickles laughed out loud. This kid... Knew what he wanted and went for it kinda guy, huh? That was funny. If he knew who Pickles was...

But he didn't. And that was nice. It was refreshing. The guys in the band he was with now knew all about SnB and he hated it. He was just a regular old jack off to this kid.

"Sure, why the hell not?" Pickles decided. Wasn't like his band now was a full time gig. He could do both. The other guys in his band had like regular _jobs_ and shit, even. It was bullshit. Maybe that was the life for them, but not for Pickles.

This kid seemed like he had direction, even if he was a pretty awkward dude.

\---

He had the kid in his apartment, which felt kinda creepy since the kid was only eighteen. Maybe Pickles shouldn't have agreed to do this shit. But fuck it. Pickles was only eighteen when they got SnB going, and Bullets had been close to thirty, himself. It was the same shit all over again. He'd give this kid a chance. 

Pickles was sitting behind his kit. The kid had brought some lyrics and crap he'd written. He wanted to play death metal, he said, and that was fine by Pickles. He left LA in search of heavier music, and he still hadn't found what he was looking for. Maybe death metal was exactly what he was looking for. Who the hell knew?

"Okay Nate'n, so how you wanna do this...?"

"I uh... I dunno. Just, like, play a beat, I'll figure it out."

"Dude, I've never played death metal before." 

"Just, uh, whatever, just play a beat. Make it brutal. I'll tell you if I fucking hate it."

Pickles really liked this kid. Pickles started to play a typical rock pattern, but he laid on the crash hard in quarter notes. Nathan looked like he was thinking about it, but then he just shrugged and looked down at the notebook in his hand, so Pickles kept it up.

Then the kid opened his fucking mouth.

" _♪I am be dangerous now_  
Not me hurt  
When stairs fell down  
Me pushed by you  
Me hit head  
Me nose broke  
Soon you be dead  
Soon you be dead♪"

Pickles had never heard anything like this shit. The lungs on this fuckin' kid! He just kept slamming away, but the kid wasn't saying anything else, and he was like reading his paper, confused or something.

" **STOP,** " Nathan yelled, not looking up at him. "That was fuckin' awesome."

"Dude, it really was. I didn't even know someone's voice could do that."

Nathan looked kind of uncomfortable or embarrassed, and Pickles tried hard not to laugh at him. 

"Anyway, change it up for the next part. Like play another beat. Like, uh. Like... ta-ta-ta-ta-ch! Ta-ta-ta-ta-ch! Got it?"

"No problem, chief," Pickles said with a smirk. This was actually really fucking interesting.

Pickles blasted into a new beat, making use of his double bass pedal. He needed the speed practice anyway, and this was a perfect opportunity. He watched Nathan's eyes, switching it up a little more and a little more until he could tell the kid was satisfied, and then Nathan started to yell again.

" _♪You're an ugly man_  
You're as dumb as sand  
Your mom's fucking fat  
Your mom blew a rat  
You are a mistake  
You have sex with cake  
You think you're so tough  
You're a living bluff  
I will put you down  
I will make you drown  
I will make you bleed  
I am filled with speed  
I cannot feel pain  
I might be insane  
I am victory  
I write history♪"

Pickles didn't think he was ever going to stop when the onslaught of insults started, but he was blown away. Nathan seemed to be done, though, so he cut the drums. 

"Dude, I didn't know what you meant by brutal, but I think I get it now," Pickles laughed. 

"That's all death metal is," Nathan said with a scowl. "It's fucking _brutal_."

They worked through the rest of it, through the whole page of shit that Nathan had written down in his notebook, and by the end of it, Pickles felt like he had been beaten up by this guy just from the words alone. He couldn't understand some of it, but it was really...

Well, fuckin' brutal. It was _exactly_ what Pickles was craving.

They took a break, and Pickles got up to get a beer.

"You want a drink, Nate?" He probably shouldn't since the kid was only eighteen and all, but fuck that. No self-respecting musician stayed sober all the time. Though, this kid lived with his parents. Huh. That seemed like it came with some problems attached.

Weren't Pickles' problems, though, so.

Nathan was looking at him like maybe it was a trick or something, but then he grunted, "Yeah." So Pickles got out another beer and pushed it into his hands. 

Hey, no harm done!

"So, uh, what the hell is with these lyrics?" Pickles asked, swiping the notebook out of Nathan's hands. Maybe he shouldn't be so casual, 'cause this kid could definitely kick his ass, but Pickles didn't think he would. Even if he had watched the kid break that other guy's face as a first impression.

"I was in a gang," Nathan growled. "Before." 

"Before what?"

Nathan scowled even harder and took a big drink of his beer. Didn't look like he was used to drinking, though, which was excessively funny to Pickles. He could spot a non-drinker right away! Well, probably wasn't this kid's fault. He lived with his parents and all. 

That was his first mistake.

"I used to live in Connecticut. You ask a lot of questions."

Pickles laughed. "Dude, if we're gonna be bandmates, we gotta know things about each other, right? Bandmates share everything."

"Huh. So you share everything with those jackoffs you play with? Do they know you're making another band behind their back?" Nathan shot back.

Heh, kid had a good point. 

"Nah, but I did with my old band. _Before._ " Pickles grinned. Yeah, he supposed he had things he didn't want to talk too much about, too.

Nathan finished his beer and Pickles finished two, and they worked on the song some more. It was kind of like rap, Pickles realised, but it was way cooler than rap could ever be. The lyrics were fucking intense, and Pickles was starting to imagine it with guitars and shit...

They had a few more drinks while Pickles started to annotate the lyrics with his drum beats for reference. Nathan was pretty damn buzzed, he could tell, but the kid was trying not to show it.

"Nate, why is this like half in baby talk or some shit?" he laughed, really just kind of noticing it for the first time. These were seriously weird lyrics, no matter how fuckin' intense they were.

"You got a fuckin' problem?" Nathan asked him, but the force wasn't there behind the words. 

"Nah, dude, I'm just curious. One lyricist to another an' all, yanno?" Not like Pickles was writing lyrics these days, but he had written a lot. Before.

"'Cause if anyone makes fun of the way I talk again _I will fucking kill them._ "

A slow smile spread across Pickles' lips. Yeah, he could sure as hell get behind that.

"Hey, Nate?"

"What?"

"I think we're gonna get along great, dude."

Come to think of it, Nathan was the first person he'd met in a long time who hadn't said jack shit about Pickles' accent.


	2. Chapter 2

Something was pounding on the door, but it was fairly late and Pickles was high as fuck, so getting up to answer the door wasn't really the highest thing on his priority list. He rolled over and pressed his face against the chest of the person sharing his bed. But for some reason, that didn't stop the pounding. So, reluctant as all hell, he crawled out of bed and went to the door, really unsteady on his feet. His vision was kind of swimming, so he didn't bother looking through the peephole, just let the door swing open.

Nathan was standing in the doorway, face bloody and shirt torn. Pickles looked him over. Man. Really, he was pretty bloody.

"Come runnin' to your drummer to take care of ya?" he asked, kind of teasing. Maybe he should be more concerned or something, but the part of his brain that showed concern didn't really seem to be turning on.

"No. Just, uh, can I crash here?"

Pickles stepped back from the door, only just realising that he was only in his underwear. Well, if Nathan cared, he wasn't really saying anything about it.

"Sure, what are bandmates for, c'min, c'min..." Pickles stretched, trying to shake himself into being a little more sober. "Sure looks like you're tryin' to get me to take care of ya, though."

"Shut up," Nathan growled, kicking his shoes off. "I just don't want to go home. My parents..." Nathan suddenly looked really embarrassed, but Pickles didn't get it.

"What about 'em?"

"They freak out and shit if they know I've been fighting. Are you, uh, gay?" 

Pickles looked behind him to where Nathan was looking. Donny was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, just wearing boxers. 

"Not exclusively," Pickles yawned. "This is my friend Donny. Stays with me sometimes." Donny kind of waved, but Donny was even higher than Pickles was.

Nathan looked really embarrassed, but Pickles wasn't really going to defend himself. He wasn't ashamed of sleeping with a dude anymore than he was ashamed of sleeping with a chick. 

"Okay, uh, just don't do anything, uh, gay to me or whatever," Nathan said.

"No problem, chief," Pickles said. He really didn't have much interest in fucking an eighteen year old, anyway. "Hang on a sec."

Pickles went in his room and grabbed an extra pillow, then brought it back out to the living room and tossed it on the couch.

"Make yourself at home, dude. Use the shower or whatever, I don't care." Probably better to keep the blood off the couch. He wasn't sure if that was Nathan's blood or someone else's, but he wasn't going to ask. He was sure Nathan wouldn't answer, anyway, and Pickles wasn't really worried about it. "Have a drink or whatever if you want. I'm... too high. Gonna... go back to bed."

\---

Nathan was still asleep on his couch when Pickles got out of bed the next day, which was surprising because he and Donny had had sex when they woke up, and neither of them had been as quiet as they maybe should have been. It had been a while since he had seen Donny, so whether or not some kid was sleeping on his couch wasn't really relevant in his mind...

But, there he was, fast a-fuckin'-sleep in just his jeans. 

Not for long, though, probably. Donny was making some french toast or some shit for them, so Pickles went into the spare room and plugged in his guitar, cranking the amp up a bit. He had some shit to show Nathan, so it was kind of good that he was here.

He pulled out his copy of the songs they'd worked on. Since he had last seen Nathan, he'd written rhythm guitar to all of them. He had been planning on jamming with Donny today and figuring out more of it. Donny had laughed at him, telling him he was glad to see him so excited about making music again, and Pickles realised that he hadn't really been having _fun_ with the bands he'd played with since Snakes N' Barrels ended, and now, with Nathan, he was.

It was pretty interesting.

Just like he thought, it didn't take long for Nathan's huge frame to appear in the doorway, rubbing his eyes a little.

"Mornin' Nate. Check it out, been working on our songs."

"You woke me up," Nathan complained, instead. 

"Dude, who cares? We're gonna have french toast!" French toast was fuckin' awesome, and Nathan could go fuck himself if he didn't agree.

Nathan didn't respond, but he slumped down onto the loveseat Pickles had in the music room, looking like he was struggling to wake up. Pickles just kept playing until Nathan was ready to listen. 

"Didn't know you played guitar," Nathan said after a few minutes.

"I played lead back in my old band," Pickles half explained.

"Huh. Thought you were a singer."

"Yeah. That, too."

Pickles veered off of what he was playing and started to just play for hell of it, maybe something like a guitar solo, just playing for himself. He was starting to smell breakfast, and when he thought about Donny standing in his kitchen in just his boxers making breakfast for them, he couldn't help smiling to himself a bit.

Everything was going pretty well, huh?

\---

Nathan sleeping on his couch became a regular occurrence. Pickles gathered enough to get it. Nathan didn't really hate his parents or anything, like Pickles did, but he didn't want to disappoint them too much. Pickles understood that. If he had the chance to do it all over again, maybe he would have worked harder to not be such a disappointment... 

Even after Snakes N' Barrels had really taken off, he couldn't be good enough for them, and he hated that. So it would have been nice if things had been different, but...

They weren't, so that was that. But Nathan still had a chance, he guessed.

About a month later, when he woke up at 4:30 am with Nathan at his door, he made a decision.

"Dude. Why don't you just move in? It's not right to live with your parents, anyway, if you're a musician."

Nathan frowned at him, really hard, and looked at the floor. "I don't... have a job."

Pickles suddenly remembered like a thousand years ago showing up at Donny's door, nothing but a hundred bucks in his hand and a duffel bag full of crap he didn't really need. It had been the best thing he had ever done. That had been a decade ago. Maybe it was time to pay it forward or something.

"Nate, I don't give a shit. I got money. We can move my shit outta the music room into the living room. Who cares, dude?"

\---

It had been almost a week since Nathan had moved in and Pickles' life hadn't changed much. He was sitting on the couch playing guitar and drinking from a bottle of whiskey when Nathan, fresh out of the shower and wearing just a towel, plopped down on the couch next to him. He thought Nathan might be a little more squeamish being so scantily clad or something after finding out that Pickles slept with guys, but he hadn't said another word about it since the night he met Donny.

"Hey, Pickles."

"Yeah?"

"You're, uh. Famous or something, aren't you," Nathan said, but it was an accusation more than a question.

Pickles ducked his head down a little bit. Well, well. The little dude figured out his secret, huh? He hated it, because he didn't want Nathan treating him like he was someone special, but at the same time, he already knew: Nathan _wouldn't_.

"Yeah, I kinda am," Pickles admitted. "Was, anyway."

"Huh. Thought your name sounded familiar."

Pickles laughed at that, though. Like there were just a ton of guys going around being called 'Pickles'. This kid. Fuckin' hilarious.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics are taken from "Face Fisted" from "The Dethalbum".


End file.
